


Fury, Oh Fury

by menel



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Crushes, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Guilt, Identity Issues, Introspection, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: Danny Rand turns up at Clinton Church. Matt isn't as surprised as he should be. He'd expected to cross paths with the other Defenders at some point. When he thinks about it later, it makes sense that the person who sought him out was . . . Danny Rand.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Danny Rand
Comments: 13
Kudos: 69





	1. Fancy Meeting You Here

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set post-S3 of Daredevil and post-S2 of Iron Fist. HOWEVER, the scene from Hokkaido has not yet happened. 
> 
> Title from the excellent song of the same name by Nico Vega.

The priest was nearing the end of his homily when Matt heard it. ‘It’ was a sound he hadn’t heard since Midland Circle. Then, the heartbeat had been controlled; steady, even as the fight with the Hand had escalated. The rest of the time, said heartbeat had been surprisingly quick, especially for a skilled martial artist, one who was in control of his bodily functions, even those that were otherwise autonomic. The fluttering heartbeat – as Matt had dubbed it – was emblematic of Danny Rand, an enthusiastic, slightly naïve, gung-ho kid who had been eager to please when Matt had first met him. 

Matt heard that same heartbeat now standing near the marble basin of holy water at the back of Clinton Church. It stood there for several minutes before the heavy church door swung open and the owner of the heartbeat went outside. Intrigued, Matt tracked the heartbeat, listening as it crossed the street and entered the small park opposite the church. It settled on a bench, one facing the church . . . and waited. 

Matt pushed the fluttering heart to the back of his mind, turning his attention to the mass and the now-ended homily. He stood up and began reciting the Nicene’s Creed with the other parishioners.

* * *

Danny didn’t wait long. Maybe twenty minutes. He remembered that about Sunday mass from his childhood. The scheduled masses ran like clockwork. Sometimes there were a lot of comparisons to be made between organized religion and business corporations. He stood up and crossed the street, waiting on the sidewalk as the parishioners spilled out of the church. He felt a little like a stalker, but he pushed that thought aside. 

When he and Ward had returned to New York, the first bit of news that had greeted him (aside from discreetly checking on Colleen) was the return of Daredevil. Danny had been stunned by the headline, devouring all the news reports that he could. He’d read about Daredevil’s ‘resurrection’ and the murders at the Bulletin. (Danny hadn’t believed for one second that Matt had done it. Matt wasn’t a killer.) He’d followed the manhunt conducted by the FBI, the hostage situation at Clinton Church, and Poindexter’s eventual capture at Wilson Fisk’s penthouse on the night of Fisk’s wedding. It was a lot to unpack, the kind of gripping, sensational, twisty story that would make a best-selling thriller. But Danny knew that the media had only gotten the facts and skewed those facts to suit the angle that they wanted to promote. The real story could only come from the people who had been involved, from Matt himself.

On the surface, that’s why Danny wanted to see Matt. At least, that’s what he told himself. It was normal, right? To check up on Matt after everything they’d been through together? (It hadn’t actually occurred to Danny that Matt might not want to see him.) But beyond that . . . well, beyond that were other, still unnamed reasons that Danny wasn’t ready to face yet. He thought about Ward and the NA meetings. It was about taking that first step. Healing was a process, and Danny had had his fair share. Matt would understand.

When he looked up, the Devil in his Sunday best was standing a few paces in front of him. His gaze dropped to the unassuming white cane in Murdock’s hands. _It was an incredible cover_ , Danny thought. He still didn’t know how Matt’s senses worked, but he respected them. He was in _awe_ of them, and he respected Matt. He’d been drawn to the other man since their encounter in the Chinese restaurant, since he’d learned that Matt had been trained to fight the Hand, since he’d discovered that Matt had made it his life’s mission to fight crime, since he’d known that Matt was _Daredevil_. There was kinship here. Danny was certain of it, but he’d had no opportunity to explore it. There hadn’t been enough _time_. When he looked back on his meeting with Colleen at a park, he understood that had been fate intervening. She was part of his story. He’d always been destined to meet her. His meeting with Matt? Now, he had the chance to find out. 

“Hey,” he said, immediately wanting to smack himself. Eloquent, real eloquent. 

“Danny.” 

Matt’s voice was smooth and soothing. Danny remembered that too. 

“You look good.” 

Wow, he was terrible at small talk. Luckily for him, Matt was the forgiving sort. 

“Better than the last time you saw me.” 

Danny grinned, feeling bashful at the same time. He remembered Matt’s final words to him, wondering if Matt was thinking of the same thing. He cleared his throat. “I’m glad,” he began. “I’m glad you’re okay, Matt.”

It was Matt’s turn to grin. “‘Okay’ is a relative term,” he pointed out. 

“Yeah, well. You look good.” Danny’s ears were burning. _Why_ was he so tongue-tied? He powered ahead before Matt could dwell on his useless small talk skills. “Are you busy right now? Do you wanna maybe grab a cup of coffee?” 

“Actually, I’m meeting someone.” 

“Do you need a ride?” Danny immediately offered. “I can give you a lift.” 

“The coffee shop is less than a block away.” 

“I can walk you.”

Danny was mentally cringing. He knew that he was coming across as too eager, too earnest, maybe even a little desperate. Basically, the opposite of the impression that he wanted to make. Matt seemed to take pity on him though. 

“Sure, why not?” Matt agreed. “A walk would be nice.”

The foldable cane extended and Matt turned to his left, expecting Danny to fall into step beside him. Danny did. He began to relax as they walked, taking surreptitious glances to observe the other man. Somehow, it was easier to take Matt in like this, rather than frankly appraising him while standing in front of him. Objectively, Danny knew that Matt was blind (though it was hard to remember that when he thought about all the things Daredevil could do), but it still felt rude to stare. Worse, he suspected that Matt’s senses had been picking him apart (were _still_ picking him apart) the whole time. It made him even more self-conscious, even though he told himself that there was no need to be. Right? 

“So, how’re things with you?” Danny began, trying to ease into a more comfortable topic. “I read all that stuff about Poindexter and Fisk. That was really out there.”

“It was,” Matt agreed. 

“That’s all taken care of?” 

“As much as it can be.” 

_So much for asking about what really happened_ , Danny thought. Why was he so _bad_ at this?

“How about you?” Matt said, making a valiant effort to keep their sputtering conversation alive. “What have you been up to?” 

“Since Midland Circle?” Danny chuckled humorlessly. “A lot. Too much.” 

“Too much to get through in half a block,” Matt supplied. 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Danny admitted. 

They’d stopped walking. Matt gestured behind him. “This is my stop,” he said. 

“Oh, right.” 

Danny peered over Matt’s shoulder. It was a nice, airy coffee shop with wide glass windows. It was quietly bustling this Sunday morning, probably filled with neighborhood regulars. Danny’s gaze drew him to one of the side tables where a pretty woman with dark hair met his gaze. There was a glint of recognition in her eyes. She was watching the two of them through the glass door. 

“Is your date the pretty woman with the dark hair?” 

“I don’t actually know what color Kirsten’s hair is,” Matt said, smiling. (Danny was dying inside.) “But she smells nice.”

“Well, she’s pretty _and_ has dark hair,” Danny powered on, noting how Matt didn’t deny that Kirsten was his ‘date.’ “She’s watching us through the glass door.” 

“She probably recognized you,” Matt told him, just as Danny gave Kirsten an awkward little wave. Kirsten was a good sport and waved back. 

“Who is she?” 

“Kirsten MacDuffie, one of the new ADAs.” 

“Ah, so this is like a work-date?” Danny knew he was fishing, but he didn’t much care. He’d already embarrassed himself too many times to count in less than ten minutes. 

“Not really.” 

_Damn._

“Wait,” Danny said, zeroing in on a detail that had almost escaped him. “You base attractiveness off of smell?” 

Matt laughed outright at that. “Most people have sight,” he explained, grinning. “I have smell.” He leaned forward, a little conspiratorially. “It’s not _all_ I base attractiveness on,” he said. “But it helps.” 

Matt leaned back again, and Danny thankfully stopped himself from asking how _he_ smelled. (Hey, now that he knew, he was curious, okay? Every little advantage helped.) Matt extended a hand. “It was good of you to drop by the church,” he said, and he sounded sincere.

Danny grasped the proffered hand and held onto it. “Matt,” he said. “I’d really like to catch up some time,” he rushed forward. “Properly. I mean, only if you want to as well. It’s cool, if you don’t. I know we don’t really know each other. And what happened before? That was a mess. But I feel . . . I dunno . . . I just –” 

“Let’s do that,” Matt said, cutting off Danny’s rambling. “How about next Sunday? Same time, same place?” 

Danny’s relief came out as a laugh. “Is it a date?” he teased. 

“I don’t know, Danny. Is it?” 

Danny dropped Matt’s hand instantly. “Next Sunday,” he confirmed. “Same time, same place.” Then he walked rapidly away, not caring so much about the direction.

* * *

Matt listened to the fluttering heartbeat as it drew further away from him. Danny’s nervousness was a little endearing. He wasn’t sure at its cause. There was some attraction there (yes, that had taken him a little by surprise), but Matt didn’t know what kind. Platonic? Brotherly? Comrade-in-arms? Sexual? Some combination of the above? Danny’s little ‘date’ joke and subsequent reaction gave him a clue, however small. Matt pulled open the door to the coffee shop. Kirsten stood up immediately to greet him and Matt obediently followed her voice, greeting the ADA with a warm smile.

Matt put Danny Rand out of his mind for the rest of the week, except for the one quick search that he did to see what would turn up. Danny had been keeping a low profile. The last time he’d made the news was when his name had been cleared of drug conspiracy charges related to Rand Corporation. Matt didn’t think he’d be going out on a limb if he thought that set-up had been the Hand’s doing. He knew that Danny had gone up against the Hand before, but he wasn’t aware of the specifics. Drug conspiracy charges had the Hand’s fingerprints all over it. But those dropped drug conspiracy charges had happened before the showdown at Midland Circle. Since then – nothing. Danny had been off the radar. That didn’t mean Danny hadn’t been busy, he just hadn’t been making headlines as Danny Rand. Now, a man with a glowing fist on the other hand? That guy was all over Chinatown, maintaining the peace, keeping the triads at bay, stopping crime. This guy hadn’t been given a name by the local media, but how many people had glowing fists and knew martial arts? It made Matt unreasonably proud that he’d entrusted the city to the right person.

Truthfully, Danny Rand had re-entered his life at a good time. Matt felt a rare semblance of peace now that Fisk was behind bars again, and Poindexter paralyzed. Nelson, Murdock and Page was also starting to get off the ground (even if their offices were still above the Nelson family butcher shop). Things were moving in the right direction. Matt didn’t think that Danny Rand’s re-appearance was an ominous sign. Neither did he know what Danny wanted from him, but he was at least willing to find out. 

The following Sunday, he heard the same fluttering heartbeat settle in the coffee shop about halfway through the mass. Matt smiled to himself.

* * *

“Been waiting long?” Matt greeted, as he pulled out a chair and sat down. 

“Why do I feel like you already know the answer to that?” Danny asked, a little ruefully. He hadn’t waved or called Matt over when the other man had entered the coffee shop. In fact, he’d been so engrossed in his reading that he didn’t realize Matt had joined him until Matt was pulling out the chair opposite him. 

“That’s because I do,” Matt said. “Good book?” 

“Yeah.” Danny was about to launch into it when a waitress seemingly materialized by their side. 

“The usual, Matt?” 

“Yes, please, Sylvia. Thanks.” 

Danny leaned forward when Sylvia left whispering, “Personalized service, I’m impressed. The rest of us order at the counter.” 

Matt chuckled. “Sylvia and her husband are the owners of this café,” he explained. “They’re also former clients of Nelson & Murdock.” 

“Not Nelson, Murdock and Page?” 

“No,” Matt confirmed. “The Morenos are older clients. They didn’t have this coffee shop before.” 

Danny glanced around them. “Well, it’s a nice place,” he said. “It looks like it’s doing well.” 

“It is,” Matt agreed. “It’s become our favorite neighborhood coffee shop. We’re very happy for them.” 

“And you get a free cup of coffee,” Danny teased. 

Matt didn’t take the bait. “Let’s just say we have a tab,” he replied with a smile.

This meeting with Matt went a lot smoother than Danny’s ambush tactics outside Clinton Church the previous week. It went so well that coffee turned into lunch, which turned into afternoon coffee. Danny would feel bad for monopolizing Matt’s Sunday except that he was enjoying himself too much. He hadn’t felt this good since returning to New York. Once he got past his nerves, being around Matt was easy, as he’d always suspected it would be. When they’d exhausted their topics of conversation (nothing too deep or too meaningful, none of the ‘big stuff’ that Danny hoped he’d be able to talk about with Matt eventually), Danny was thinking of how to bring their afternoon to an end and possibly set up another ‘date’ when Matt suggested something. 

“Why don’t you go out with me some time?” 

Danny sputtered ungraciously on his water. “Go _out_ with you?” he repeated. 

“Sure. On patrol,” Matt clarified.

Danny’s heart, which had leaped into his throat and nearly choked him, seemed to fall into the pit of his stomach. “On patrol?” he repeated, hating that he sounded like a parrot. 

Matt grinned. ( _His smiles are so effortless_ , Danny thought, distracted. They were evil in their own right. Matt could probably get Danny to do anything he asked so long as he smiled while asking.)

“You know,” Matt dropped his voice so that Danny found himself leaning forward on his elbows. “The whole crime-fighting, vigilante gig. What you did for the city while I was away?” 

Danny shrugged, bashful and self-conscious all of a sudden. “I was keeping a promise,” he managed to say evenly. 

“I think you were doing more than that.” There was a gentle reprimand in Matt’s tone that Danny couldn’t quite decipher, but since Matt was smiling again (smiling _at him_ ), he didn’t dwell on it. “Maybe you can tell me about it sometime.”

 _I’d like that. Very much_ , Danny thought but didn’t say. He felt hesitant and unsure. And if he were still the Immortal Iron Fist, that would shame him. Then he realized that Matt wasn’t aware of that detail yet because throughout their lovely-morning-turned-afternoon, they hadn’t talked about the ‘big things.’ He cleared his throat, feeling his own nervous energy. Sometimes being around Matt could be hell on his _chi_. 

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” he said slowly. Danny could see the change come over Matt, the almost imperceptible shift in his body language. Alert. Danny was suddenly aware that the Devil was sitting in front of him. 

“What is it?” Even Matt’s voice was deeper, but smooth, still so smooth that it was like seduction. 

“I’m no longer the Immortal Iron Fist.” There, he’d said it aloud. That wasn’t so bad, was it? 

“What does that mean?” 

“It means . . . I no longer have the Fist.”

Danny waited. There were lots of directions in which the conversation could go now. Matt could ask him about what had happened. Or how Danny had lost the Fist. Who had the Fist now? Did _anyone_ have the Fist now? Was it possible for Danny to get the Fist back? Did Danny _want_ the Fist back? Those were all reasonable questions that would lead to the ‘big issues’ in Danny’s life, the issues that Danny wanted to talk about, but also didn’t feel ready to face yet. That was the conundrum. And underlying that conundrum was the intense attraction that Danny felt towards Matt, intense enough that he’d sought the other man out, even though they barely knew each other. Danny wasn’t even sure what he _wanted_ from Matt, but now that Colleen was effectively out of his life, it seemed important to find out.

“You’re still one of the most skilled fighters I know,” Matt said thoughtfully. “With or without the Iron Fist. Why should that stop you from going on patrol with me?” 

Danny started. Matt’s reaction . . . was not what he had been expecting. 

“Unless you don’t want to go on patrol,” Matt added. “Which is fine. I didn’t mean to put pressure on you.” 

“No, I do,” Danny blurted, flushing again. “I’d really like to go on patrol with you.” 

“So, what’s stopping you?” 

Danny shrugged a little helplessly. He’d run out of excuses. “I don’t have a suit?” 

Matt began to laugh. “Well,” he said, leaning forward again. “Since we’re sharing the big stuff now, I don’t have a suit either.” 

“What? _Why_?” Danny’s disappointment was palpable. “Your suit is _so cool_. Every super hero needs a suit.”

“First of all,” Matt began. “I’m not a super hero.” He held up a hand before Danny could protest. “Super heroes are people like Captain America. And Thor. And Iron Man. What I do isn’t the same thing.” 

“What you do _matters_ ,” Danny countered stubbornly. 

“I never said it didn’t,” Matt replied. “And unless we’re talking about branding and image, a suit shouldn’t make the super hero either.” He paused. “What I’m saying is you don’t need a suit to do good.” 

Silence. 

“So?” 

“Where do I meet you?” 

Matt pulled out his phone and dictated Danny’s name into the contact list. (Danny felt a flush of pride at hearing that.) Then he passed his phone to Danny, who filled in the appropriate info before passing the phone back. 

“I’ll send you my address,” Matt informed him. “Let’s meet on the roof of my building, Wednesday at dusk.” 

Later that evening when an unknown sender texted an address in midtown west, otherwise known as Hell’s Kitchen, Danny grinned as he saved the information under ‘Matthew Murdock.’ Wednesday couldn't come soon enough.


	2. Just Another Day at the Office

When Matt returned home, the fluttering heartbeat was already on his rooftop. He shook his head, wondering how long Danny had been waiting up there. The kid was early, which didn’t surprise him. Beneath his exuberance there was a noticeable sadness about Danny now, but he masked it well. He still had his moments of eagerness and enthusiasm (as waiting on Matt’s rooftop showed), but they were more tempered. Danny was holding himself back.

Matt wasn’t sure what had prompted him to suggest tonight’s partnership, but at the back of his mind, he could feel Stick watching over them. It was what Stick would’ve wanted. Privately, he thought that the idea of Danny coming to him for some kind of mentorship or guidance was a terrible one. Some of those things were there, definitely. Danny seemed adrift. Matt thought he was looking for focus, or worse, _purpose_. Matt wasn’t sure he could provide that, but he’d do what he could. Perhaps, what he was more concerned about was the level of attraction. He’d gotten a glimpse of it during their brief walk to the café, but their lengthy lunch on Sunday had only strengthened the idea. Matt wasn’t misreading that. Danny Rand was into him. Like, _a lot_. The real question was, what was _he_ going to do about it? 

Matt shortened his routine that day. He didn’t want to keep Danny waiting.

* * *

“When you were patrolling the city before,” Matt began. “How did you do it?” 

Danny opened his eyes. His meditation had just ended. Matt’s timing was impeccable. The other man was sitting in front him, mirroring his posture. Danny remembered this outfit. _The Man in Black_. That’s what the media had called Matt before they’d christened him as Daredevil.

“Um . . . well . . .” Danny began, eloquent as always. “I set up a system in Colleen’s home. _Our_ home,” he corrected quickly. “I had access to the police scanner and police bands. Video footage. I monitored their networks and followed their leads.” 

“Basically, you hacked into the NYPD,” Matt translated. 

“Well . . . yeah.” Danny felt a little sheepish. “It worked.” 

“I’m sure.”

“What do you do?” 

“Same thing as you. Just more low tech.” 

“Low tech?” 

“Yeah, I _listen_ for crime.”

Danny grinned. “What’s your range?” he asked curiously. “Five blocks? Ten? Twenty?” 

“Enough to cover all of Hell’s Kitchen.” 

“No wonder you’re so territorial.” 

It was Matt’s turn to grin, and they fell into a companionable silence. 

“So?” Danny prodded after a little while. “Hear anything?”

“I hear everything,” Matt said, completely without irony, but he understood what Danny really meant. _Do we go now? When do we leave? Can we start crime-fighting?_ were the questions hanging in the air unsaid. Danny had more impulse-control, which Matt thought was a good thing. 

“We have to wait a bit longer.” 

“Why?” 

“Because it’s still too bright. The shadows are our best friend.” 

Danny nodded. “How can you tell?” he asked. “That’s it’s too bright?”

“The temperature hasn’t dropped enough,” Matt explained. “I may not be able to see the sunset, but I can feel it.”

They waited for the shadows to fall and there was no more talking between them. Danny went back to meditation; Matt let the city’s noises and sounds and smells wash over him. When there was a different crispness in the air and the last of the sun’s rays no longer fell on Matt’s face, he stood up. 

“Where to?” Danny asked him, standing up as well and tying a mask about his face. Unlike Matt’s black mask, his was gold and covered the lower half of his face instead of his eyes. 

“Two blocks to our left,” Matt said. “Three men are about to rob a liquor store.” 

Danny gestured. “Lead the way,” he said.

Somehow, he was still surprised when Matt literally leaped off of the building. His heart skipped at the elegance of the Devil, how utterly soundless Matt’s movements were. _Just like the Hand_ , he briefly thought, remembering that Matt had been trained in the same techniques. Then he realized that Matt was halfway across the second rooftop and that he was supposed to be following. With his own graceful leap, Danny did.

That was how they traveled – across rooftops and in shadows. Matt was more like the Hand than Danny would’ve guessed. Training in K’un-Lun had never been about hiding in the shadows or using the shadows the way Matt did. There was no need to when the warriors of K’un-Lun were the warriors of Light. They were seekers of the Light, destroyers of the Shadow. Danny was starting to realize how different Matt’s training was, not just because of Matt’s abilities, but because of how Matt hid almost everything about himself. He seemed to live a shadow life to Danny, and it was only at night, in literal shadows that Matt could truly be himself. Danny was drawn to that, fascinated by it, captured by the darkness that was in the Devil. He’d never had to hide. Even before the plane crash and the death of his parents, Danny Rand had had the world at his feet. Hiding had never been part of the equation.

They did a lot of good that night. Matt covered a lot of ground, more than Danny was used to when he did his own patrols. The Devil was efficient and his timing precise. Up close, the amount of day-to-day crime in New York was staggering, especially if this was the Devil’s average night (and Danny got the sense that it was). After the second attempted robbery (a jewelry shop), Danny realized that he liked playing the Devil’s sidekick. It was refreshing to follow, not to have to lead or to strategize. He left everything to Matt, and the other man didn’t seem to mind. They made a good team. It was nice to be part of a team, and it was nice to have someone watching his back. Is this what it would’ve been like if Colleen had gone on patrol with him those months before the triad war between the Hatchets and the Golden Tigers had escalated, before Joy and Davos had re-entered his life with a plot to steal the Fist from him? Danny would never know. Those things were all in the past.

They returned to Matt’s rooftop a little after 2:00am. 

“Just another day at the office?” Danny teased, as he took off his mask. 

“A _good_ day at the office,” Matt corrected, doing the same.

He was grinning and Danny felt his heart doing all sorts of flip floppy things that it shouldn’t just because Matt Murdock was _smiling_ in his direction. _This must be what a teenage crush feels like_ , he realized with something akin to dawning horror. With the focused training and the acetic life he’d lead in K’un-Lun, he’d skipped this part in his social development years. Sure, there’d been times when he and Davos would take the long way back to the monastery so they – okay, _Danny_ – could spy on the village girls as they did their laundry by the river, but he’d never had this fluttering feeling caused by someone else before. Not even Colleen. Colleen had been understanding and kinship and a kind of . . . contentment . . . from the start. _She_ had been the one to instigate a romantic relationship between them. Danny might never have done so, might never have been able to see beyond his vow of chastity. He hadn’t even realized that Colleen was interested in him romantically, or how and when her attitude towards him had changed, until she had been kissing him. It was painful now to see how naïve he’d been. 

But this? This magnetic attraction to Matt? It was the first time he’d felt it, for either a man or a woman. It was . . . he didn’t know how to describe it. But it was _good_. 

“You okay?”

“Um . . . yeah,” Danny said. He knew that Matt wasn’t ‘looking’ at him, per se, but Danny still felt exposed. He’d have to ask sometime how Matt’s senses worked, but even without that knowledge he suspected that Matt was ‘reading’ him, and that Danny had given himself away. Otherwise, why would Matt have asked that question? Trying to find a way to casually deflect from his embarrassment, he added, “I’m a little hungry though.” Luckily for him, his tummy cooperated by rumbling loud enough that Matt didn’t need super senses to hear _that_.

Matt chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “Going on patrol has redefined the midnight snack for me.” He began walking to the roof access door. “I should be able to scrounge up something to eat.” 

“Next time, we can pass by Chinatown and pick up some takeout,” Danny suggested, following Matt down the stairs. He realized that this was the first time he’d been inside Matt’s apartment. 

“Next time?” Matt teased. He’d reached the bottom of the stairs, where he stopped briefly. 

The question halted Danny in his steps, but didn’t prevent him from appreciating Matt’s profile in the lurid purple and gold light that flooded the room. “Well . . .” he trailed off, trying to think of a response. 

“Relax, Danny,” Matt assured him. “It’s a good idea. And after tonight, why wouldn’t there be a ‘next time’?”

Danny exhaled, an unmistakable sound of relief. Matt had turned right and ventured into the kitchen, while it was Danny’s turn to stand at the bottom of the steps to survey Matt’s apartment. The first thing he noticed was the punching bag that was hanging underneath the staircase. It was a neat little boxing nook. He remembered reading that Matt’s father had been a boxer. Battlin’ Jack Murdock. (Yes, he’d compiled a file on Matt Murdock after Midland Circle. He’d wanted to learn about Matt’s life. Otherwise, how would he be able to carry on Matt’s legacy?) Although Danny didn’t know Matt very well, he’d seen some of the other man’s boxing roots in their fights tonight. Matt wasn’t all finesse and ninja stealth; he could be a brawler, too, and Danny liked that about him. It was fitting that the Devil could get down and dirty in a street fight.

Once he got past the punching bag, Danny moved into the living room proper. He walked over to the ceiling to floor windows that overlooked the street, gazing out at the billboard that cast its light into the room. “I hope you get a discount on rent,” he commented. 

“Because of the billboard?” Matt guessed. He was moving around in the kitchen, preparing them something.

Danny couldn’t help but notice that Matt hadn’t turned on any lights. Not that Matt needed them (neither did Danny for that matter since the living room was already well ‘lit’), but the billboard’s lights didn’t quite extend to the kitchen where Matt was working in darkness. 

“Yeah,” Danny said. “Not a lot of people would put up with that.” 

“But a blind person would,” Matt revised. “No discount from the landlord,” he went on. “But we agreed that if he ever needs a lawyer, I’d take the fee out of my rent.” 

“Not a bad bargain,” Danny agreed, walking over and sitting at the kitchen counter. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m good,” Matt said. He turned to face Danny, the possibilities for a snack laid out on the counter in front of them. “Haven’t had a chance to buy groceries recently,” Matt confessed. “But there’s enough here to make a sandwich. Cold cuts or PB&J?” 

Danny’s eyes lit up. “PB&J,” he replied instantly. “That’s something you couldn’t get in K’un-Lun.” 

“PB&J it is,” Matt agreed, opening the peanut butter. 

“Chunky or smooth?”

“ _Extra_ chunky.” 

“My hero.” 

Danny felt that he should probably be embarrassed by how enthusiastic he was over a PB&J (it went straight to his childhood) and his poor attempt at flirting, but he couldn’t muster up the shame. Besides, Matt had been the one to present it as an option, and since he had extra chunky peanut butter to begin with meant he must’ve liked those sandwiches too. No one really outgrew a PB&J, right? 

“Crust on or off?” 

“Am I seven?” 

Matt patiently waited for a response. 

“Off.”

Danny could put his food philosophizing aside when Matt presented him with a crustless PB&J with extra-chunky peanut butter. He wondered if asking for a glass of milk would be pushing it, but that didn’t matter because Matt presented him with that as well (though Matt got water for himself). The silence was companionable as they ate, Danny thinking all the while that this was probably the best damn PB&J he’d had in over fifteen years. Come to think of it, this was probably the _first_ PB&J he’d had since returning from K’un-Lun (Colleen was definitely not a PB&J person), and he’d have to do something about that. 

When their plates were empty and glasses drained, Danny glanced at his watch. It was nearly 3:00am. “You probably have an early start, huh?” he said. 

“Fairly early,” Matt agreed. 

“I’ll let you get some shut eye.” Danny was about to stand up, but Matt’s next words stopped him. 

“You could crash here.”

“No offense, Matt. But your couch doesn’t look very comfortable.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Matt countered. 

Danny watched as Matt walked around the counter to his side. Danny instinctively slid around his stool to face him. 

“And besides,” Matt went on. “I wasn’t talking about the couch.” 

The moment felt charged.

“I was wondering whether or not I was going to do this,” Matt suddenly said, sounding vaguely amused. “But I guess I’ve answered my own question.” 

“Do what?” Danny asked, a little breathlessly. 

“This.”

‘This’ was a kiss that caught Danny by surprise, even as some part of his brain was chastising him for being surprised after the quick turn in their conversation. Thinking was shut down moments later when Matt’s hand cupped the side of his neck, and Matt’s thumb ran up the beginnings of the scratchy beard along his jawline. Matt was tilting Danny’s head, deepening the kiss and Danny greedily accepted. His right hand fisted the front of Matt’s black top, trying to pull the other man closer to him. His left hand had somehow landed on Matt’s waist. Then there was a moaning sound. Who was moaning? Oh, that was him.

“What are we doing?” Danny asked, when they broke for air. He was still holding Matt by his shirt, the other man’s hand still cradling his neck. 

“Kissing, I hear it’s called,” Matt lightly teased. 

“But why?” 

Matt leaned back slightly and Danny instantly regretted the question. “I thought it’s what you wanted,” Matt said carefully. “Was I wrong?”

“No, god no,” Danny said, pulling Matt forward so that he could rest his forehead on Matt’s chest. He felt Matt’s arms slip around him and that was comforting. Reassuring. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he admitted, his voice muffled. ‘Here’ had variable meanings but Danny didn’t have the energy to get into it. He was still reeling from Matt’s kiss. Matt had _kissed_ him.

“Would it make you feel any better that I don’t know either?” 

Matt’s tone was light and teasing, but Danny could detect the sincerity beneath it.

“This doesn’t have to get weird or awkward,” Matt went on. “And we don’t have to do anything else or explain what’s happened. And yes, you _are_ welcome to crash here. I’m offering my bed, but if you’re more comfortable on the couch, that’s fine too.” 

Danny lifted his head. “Why do you make so much _sense_?” 

“I’m a lawyer?”

“Okay, counselor.” Danny had absolutely no desire to put up a fight. “I’ll spend the night.”

* * *

They were both dirty from their crimefighting and the grime of the streets. Even if Matt hadn’t insisted that he shower, Danny would’ve done so anyway. That was just good manners. They showered separately, Matt going first and then leaving a set of spare clothes for Danny. Danny had filled out since the showdown at Midland Circle. He still wasn’t as broad in the chest as Matt, but the clothes were a good fit. When he padded into Matt’s bedroom after his shower, Matt was sitting up in bed presumably waiting for him. Danny wasted no time in getting in bed, climbing over the other man and then comfortably straddling him.

Matt arched an eyebrow. The light from the billboard didn’t enter the bedroom, thank god, but there was a window on the left through which the moonlight filtered. 

“I thought we weren’t going to do anything else tonight,” Matt reminded him. 

“Maybe a _little_ something?” Danny hedged. 

“Like?”

Danny cupped Matt’s face in his hands and leaned in. His kiss was soft and sweet, perhaps a little more tentative than he would’ve liked, but Matt didn’t push or take control. He responded to Danny, but let Danny lead, and Danny appreciated that. It was when Matt’s hands dipped under his shirt and skimmed over his abdomen, moving higher up his chest that Danny felt it – a sudden heat that flashed hot and bright before fading into a more comfortable warmth. 

“Oh,” Danny said in surprise, breaking the kiss and looking down at his chest.

“What was that?” Matt asked. He’d tilted his head and appeared to be looking directly at Danny’s chest. 

“You felt it?” 

“Yes,” Matt said. “And I can _see_ it.”

Danny took his shirt off as Matt’s right hand perfectly traced the outline of Danny’s tattoo. Wherever Matt’s fingers traveled, the heat intensified for a moment before fading again into a pleasant warmth. He _could_ see it. 

“What do you see?” Danny asked curiously. 

“The heat signature from your tattoo,” Matt explained. His hand now moved to the center of the tattoo and rested there. The warmth concentrated on that spot. “Is this normal?”

“No,” Danny answered. He had no idea what was happening, bringing home the notion that there was so little he actually knew about the Iron Fist and what it meant. 

“This doesn’t hurt?” 

“No. It feels kinda nice actually. I mean, not in a sexual way, just . . .” Danny trailed off, unable to explain what he felt. He caught Matt smirking at him, and oh, how he wanted to kiss that smirk away, but he refrained. “I think Shou-Lao likes you,” he said after a moment. 

“Shou-Lao?” 

“The dragon.” 

Matt’s smirk transformed into something softer, something a little teasing but no less sincere. “Tell me about it,” he said, and so Danny did.

Danny told Matt about the Trial of Shou-Lao, and how Danny had been chosen by the elders of K’un-Lun to face the dragon. “I earned the right,” Danny said, but even he could hear the slight waver in his voice because he wasn’t _sure_ anymore, because Davos had cast that kernel of doubt in his heart. “The tattoo is the mark of the Shou-Lao the Undying, bestowed on the man who survives the trial and has earned the Iron Fist.” 

Matt nodded, but didn’t state the obvious, which was that Danny was no longer the Iron Fist. Instead, he said something perceptive.

“Does the tattoo connect you to Shou-Lao? Why do you think that Shou-Lao ‘likes’ me?”

Danny could feel himself blushing; he was a little sorry that he’d spoken so quickly. He may have learned to show more restraint around Matt, but his verbal filter still wasn’t great. 

“I don’t know why I said that,” Danny admitted. “The tattoo’s never behaved that way before, at least, not without . . . external influence.” Matt touching him while they kissed probably qualified as an ‘external influence,’ but it was still strange. Why would the tattoo respond to that? It had never reacted to _Colleen_. 

“But it connects you to Shou-Lao?” Matt pressed.

Danny took a deep breath, centering himself. It was hard to talk about these things, but this was part of the reason why he’d sought Matt out. Right? Precisely so he could _talk_ about these things.

“Before,” Danny began, his voice dropping, “when I used the Fist, I could feel Shou-Lao in me. I could feel his fire. Every time I used the Fist, the dragon was with me. And the more I used the Fist, the stronger the dragon became. And the more I used the Fist, the more I _wanted_ to use the Fist. I would look for any excuse, and then justify it later. It became –” 

“An addiction,” Matt finished for him.

“Yes,” Danny whispered. “I’m not worthy of the Fist, Matt. I never really understood why I wanted it, or what I was fighting for before. It was just a goal. An objective. Something to strive for, to give my life meaning. It was . . . my purpose. But when I’d won the Fist, I realized –” 

“It wasn’t enough.” 

Danny shook his head, as if he by doing so he could shake away the tears that were threatening to spill. “No,” he agreed, steadying his voice. “It wasn’t enough. I thought the Fist would fill a hole in me, but I just felt . . . empty.” 

“And that’s why you came back.”

Danny didn’t even acknowledge Matt’s words. It was evident how true they were. And he didn’t say that he felt like he was back at square one – empty and without purpose, and worse, without the Fist. He was a billionaire who could simply choose what he wanted to do with his life, but he still felt useless and empty. He’d trained almost his whole life for what? What was he supposed to do now that K’un-Lun was gone? That he no longer had the Fist? That they’d driven the Hand out of New York? That he didn’t quite fit in the world as Danny Rand?

Several long minutes passed while Danny got his shit together and Matt didn’t say anything, occasionally rubbing a soothing circle on Danny’s lower back. The heat from Danny’s tattoo had faded, and Matt could only ‘see’ the barest outline of the mark of the dragon on Danny’s chest. 

“You’re not going to say anything to that?” Danny eventually said. 

Matt gave him a soft smile. “I’m still processing,” he admitted. 

“I’ve ruined the moment, haven’t I?” 

“This didn’t go the way I thought it would,” Matt admitted. “But that’s okay.”

Danny gave up the pretense of pulling himself together and slumped forward onto Matt’s chest. He felt gratified when Matt wrapped his arms around him. “I don’t know what I’m doing here,” he sighed. ‘Here’ once more had variable meanings. 

“That’s okay, too,” Matt said. “We’ll figure that out as we go along.” 

“We?” Danny said, hopefully. 

“It’s what Stick would’ve wanted.”

Danny felt a pang of guilt. Stick hadn’t even crossed his mind. He’d hardly known the other man, but he knew enough to remember that Stick had been Matt’s mentor. His _sensei_. Was this why Matt was being so accommodating to him? Because he thought it was _what Stick would’ve wanted_? He was about to ask when Matt suddenly said: 

“Would you mind rolling to the side? I’m starting to cramp.”

Danny chuckled. “Sorry,” he replied, doing as Matt asked. He shifted onto his side, still facing Matt, and watched as Matt slid down to get more comfortable. “Sorry for dumping on you,” he added quietly. “That wasn’t cool.” 

“Sometimes we just need to let it out,” Matt said. “Confession is good for the soul.” 

“So, you’re my priest now, instead of the Devil?” 

“I can be both.” 

“How do you live with that dichotomy?” 

It was Matt’s turn to chuckle. “That’s a story for another time.” 

“When can we do this again?” Danny suddenly asked. “Team up, I mean. I really . . . I really enjoyed tonight.” 

“I’m on patrol every night. You can join me any time.”

“Okay,” Danny murmured. He inched closer to Matt, not feeling brave enough to touch him, but wanting the proximity. He fell asleep thinking about their next patrol, about protecting the streets with the Devil. It was something to look forward to.

When he briefly woke up some time later, Danny realized that he’d completely invaded Matt’s personal space, throwing an arm about Matt’s chest and tangling their legs together. Danny would’ve been horrified, except that Matt had wrapped an arm around him, so that both of them could sleep more comfortably. Danny snuggled into Matt’s warmth, feeling more at peace than he had in many months and went back to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Everything belongs to Marvel and Netflix. No infringement is intended; no profit is being made.


End file.
